The Wastelands

Chapter 26

The two hour drive brought them to a large green house with brown shutters. The split level country home stood alone on a large lot. The nearest neighbors were a few miles down the road. Groves of trees were scattered across the land to beautify the property. Behind the house was a large barn with no windows. The siding had started to rot and the heavy wooden door was bolted shut with a large padlock keeping it secured from the outside.

The driver pulled the truck into one stall of the attached garage, then shut off the engine. The two men climbed out at the same time, slamming the doors in unison. The man who appeared to own the house and the property stared at the child in the cage.

"She'll come with me. I'll have Tess get her cleaned up. Have the boy get started with the firewood." He demanded.

"Yes sir." The bodyguard replied as he fished the key from his pocket. He unlocked the cage and motioned for their new slaves to get out. Bristol reluctantly left Casey's side and followed the rich man into the house.

"What's your name, boy?" the bodyguard's voice boomed inside the garage.

"Casey." He replied, avoiding eye contact as he climbed down from the cage.

"My name is Lawrence, but you will only address me as Sir. I am the only one you talk to here. If he chooses to speak with you, you call him Master. Don't think twice about fucking up or escaping because we don't tolerate that shit here. Do you understand me?"

Casey nodded quickly and said, "Yes sir."

"Good." Lawrence replied, then led him through the garage, "You've got work to do right now, so follow me."

They walked into the house, stepping into the basement. Music drifted through the floorboards above as the master walked around upstairs. Casey followed the large man to the back section of the walk-out basement. A wood burning stove sent heat throughout the home and the stack of firewood was running low.

"You see that pile of wood by the barn out there?" Lawrence asked, pointing through the windows by the sliding, glass doors, "Fill up the trough in the corner by the fireplace." He pointed to a corner in the basement by the wood burning stove.

"Yes sir." Casey replied.

Lawrence walked to a metal cabinet on the other side of the room and pulled open a squeaky door. Chains rattled against the metal shelving and he carried a crude pair of handcuffs to Casey. He shackled the young man's wrists together with a six-inch length of chain to separate his arms. Lawrence shoved the key to the cuffs in his front pocket, then slid the glass door open.

"I expect you to get this done before nightfall. If you want to eat anything tonight, you'll do it quickly." The man ordered. "And if you're thinking about making a run for it, don't plan on getting very far." He showed Casey a fully loaded revolver attached to the waistband of his jeans, "I never miss."

Casey nodded, then stepped outside. If he were younger, he would've tried making a run for the hills. He had done that a few times in the past and never got more than a mile away before getting caught. Some of his previous owners were less harsh when delivering his punishment, but the majority of them made sure he knew never to run away again. The searing pain from every whip and the severe heat from being locked in a steel box in the hot sun had burned that lesson into his mind.

He followed the groove in the grass that led to the barn fifty yards from the house. The light mist soaked into his skin and dripped from his hair by the time he got to the pile of wood. He searched for a wagon or some kind of cart to tote the firewood back to the house. There was nothing to aide in the chore other than his own two, chained hands. The lack of separation between his wrists made it difficult to carry more than a few logs, but he managed to get six on the first trip.